Trent Brown sulked from exhibit to exhibit, doing his best to look bored as he absorbed as much information as he could about summoning spirits from an unfathomable dimension. He slowly swept his black jeans, which were held to his bony frame only by a cracked leather belt, across the polished wooden floors of the Supernatural History Museum.
Trent had spent his whole Saturday trying to summon a companion spirit. He had hoped for something strong, dark, and intense like the coffee he pretended to like. He drew and re-drew summoning circles on the smooth concrete floor of his parents’ garage, imagining the moment when he showed up to school to show off a companion so strong and repulsive that the other kids at school would either be jealous or afraid. Each time he ended up coming face-to-face with disappointment. He kept a TLT meter with him, hoping it would tell him that the cute and cuddly forms that appeared before him were hiding immense mystical power. Alas, each new adorable spirit who gleefully popped into his candle-lit garage was just as harmless as it looked.
He decided to visit the Supernatural History Museum the next day to see if he could learn something more about the summoning process, something his classmates knew that he didn’t. The only thing he had to remain wary of was other classmates. If they caught him here learning, then not only would that make him some nerd to be made fun of, but it might raise questions about the spirits he was summoning. If it got out that he could only summon the spirit equivalent of a body pillow, then he would never live it down.
Trent bumped into a velvet rope, fumbling with it a bit as it crashed to the floor and interrupted the hushed murmurs of the other patrons.
“Shit!” He hissed. Trent quickly pulled the heavy post back up and checked if anyone was staring at him, praying that the sparse crowd might collectively decide not to investigate the loud bang that had just echoed through the History of Spiritual Encounters exhibit. His timid glance met the eyes of several adults, each either wearing a mask of pity or disgust. Trent wasn’t sure which was more upsetting.
He decided to hide his flushed face in the next room, which displayed various summoning circles behind more velvet ropes. Trent increased his brooding after that embarrassing moment of vulnerability, showing everyone in the room that he was hiding a great pain and power that no one else could understand. He pulled up his oversized black hoodie, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and glared up through his straightened brown hair that he insisted sat that straight naturally.
Trent was promptly ignored.
Annoyed, but slightly relieved of his embarrassment, he held this pose as he floated to read the signs above the closest summoning circle. The markings in the circle were familiar, it was a companion circle like he had been trying to make at home. The one displayed was a perfectly drawn example, a work of art that could bring him the powerful beast that would finally understand his pain.
Trent stood in awe long enough to annoy several groups of people who also wanted to observe the circle. By the time he stopped daydreaming about having a literal dragon as his spirit companion, he was alone.
Maybe, he thought to himself, I could just slip behind the ropes and say the incantation. He knew the words. He had been repeating them all day yesterday. He took another look around the room, he even listened hard for murmurs or footsteps in rooms adjacent to him. Hearing nothing, he dipped his black converse across the thick red line.
He murmured the incantation, giving the best and strongest delivery he could muster despite his growing fear of being caught.
As he finished the chant, a crack formed in the center of the circle, allowing a dark purple muck to bubble out from beneath it. The thick paste pushed the crack wider, causing fractals of painted wood to splinter and tear around the center. The muck moved and covered the wounded floor like blood spilling from a gash, barricaded only by the edges of the circle. Trent watched this process in awe, he had not seen such an intricate entrance from a spirit before. This was a far cry from the simple poof into existence that the other spirits offered.
Trent’s palms dripped with sweat, the thick, boiling liquid began to draw itself up into itself. The muck rounded out and assumed a form resembling a teardrop. Two eyes emerged from the side facing Trent, and the being emitted a subtle glow. The cracks in the ground then mended themselves, allowing the circle to return to its prior pristine beauty.
Trent stood, staring expectantly at the spirit for a minute. The gelatinous creature wiggled and bounced, moving so it could take a full view of its surroundings.
This was it. Trent couldn’t deny this creature was his match, even as it made a sound resembling gleeful purring. He had done everything exactly right, he had put himself out on display to the spirit world, and this was what responded.
The spirit lengthened and tilted to one side as if to cock its head in curiosity. Trent could hear footsteps rushing toward the room, he must’ve set off a paranormal sensor by using the summoning circle. I should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave this room unmonitored he thought. In his panicked and frantic state, Trent blurted out the words of acceptance that he was planning on saying before he was met with such a disappointing creature. The spirit gurgled happily, and bounced alongside Trent as he was carried out of the museum.
Even as he was shove forcefully out onto the street, the spirit displayed nothing but joy as its giddy form hopped onto the toppled teenager. Trent drew himself up, realizing that he had lost skin from his hands as he did so and crying out in a disproportionate reaction to the pain. The spirit, his spirit, giggled.
Trent had spent his whole Saturday trying to summon a companion spirit. He had hoped for something strong, dark, and intense like the coffee he pretended to like. He drew and re-drew summoning circles on the smooth concrete floor of his parents’ garage, imagining the moment when he showed up to school to show off a companion so strong and repulsive that the other kids at school would either be jealous or afraid. Each time he ended up coming face-to-face with disappointment. He kept a TLT meter with him, hoping it would tell him that the cute and cuddly forms that appeared before him were hiding immense mystical power. Alas, each new adorable spirit who gleefully popped into his candle-lit garage was just as harmless as it looked.
He decided to visit the Supernatural History Museum the next day to see if he could learn something more about the summoning process, something his classmates knew that he didn’t. The only thing he had to remain wary of was other classmates. If they caught him here learning, then not only would that make him some nerd to be made fun of, but it might raise questions about the spirits he was summoning. If it got out that he could only summon the spirit equivalent of a body pillow, then he would never live it down.
Trent bumped into a velvet rope, fumbling with it a bit as it crashed to the floor and interrupted the hushed murmurs of the other patrons.
“Shit!” He hissed. Trent quickly pulled the heavy post back up and checked if anyone was staring at him, praying that the sparse crowd might collectively decide not to investigate the loud bang that had just echoed through the History of Spiritual Encounters exhibit. His timid glance met the eyes of several adults, each either wearing a mask of pity or disgust. Trent wasn’t sure which was more upsetting.
He decided to hide his flushed face in the next room, which displayed various summoning circles behind more velvet ropes. Trent increased his brooding after that embarrassing moment of vulnerability, showing everyone in the room that he was hiding a great pain and power that no one else could understand. He pulled up his oversized black hoodie, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and glared up through his straightened brown hair that he insisted sat that straight naturally.
Trent was promptly ignored.
Annoyed, but slightly relieved of his embarrassment, he held this pose as he floated to read the signs above the closest summoning circle. The markings in the circle were familiar, it was a companion circle like he had been trying to make at home. The one displayed was a perfectly drawn example, a work of art that could bring him the powerful beast that would finally understand his pain.
Trent stood in awe long enough to annoy several groups of people who also wanted to observe the circle. By the time he stopped daydreaming about having a literal dragon as his spirit companion, he was alone.
Maybe, he thought to himself, I could just slip behind the ropes and say the incantation. He knew the words. He had been repeating them all day yesterday. He took another look around the room, he even listened hard for murmurs or footsteps in rooms adjacent to him. Hearing nothing, he dipped his black converse across the thick red line.
He murmured the incantation, giving the best and strongest delivery he could muster despite his growing fear of being caught.
As he finished the chant, a crack formed in the center of the circle, allowing a dark purple muck to bubble out from beneath it. The thick paste pushed the crack wider, causing fractals of painted wood to splinter and tear around the center. The muck moved and covered the wounded floor like blood spilling from a gash, barricaded only by the edges of the circle. Trent watched this process in awe, he had not seen such an intricate entrance from a spirit before. This was a far cry from the simple poof into existence that the other spirits offered.
Trent’s palms dripped with sweat, the thick, boiling liquid began to draw itself up into itself. The muck rounded out and assumed a form resembling a teardrop. Two eyes emerged from the side facing Trent, and the being emitted a subtle glow. The cracks in the ground then mended themselves, allowing the circle to return to its prior pristine beauty.
Trent stood, staring expectantly at the spirit for a minute. The gelatinous creature wiggled and bounced, moving so it could take a full view of its surroundings.
This was it. Trent couldn’t deny this creature was his match, even as it made a sound resembling gleeful purring. He had done everything exactly right, he had put himself out on display to the spirit world, and this was what responded.
The spirit lengthened and tilted to one side as if to cock its head in curiosity. Trent could hear footsteps rushing toward the room, he must’ve set off a paranormal sensor by using the summoning circle. I should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave this room unmonitored he thought. In his panicked and frantic state, Trent blurted out the words of acceptance that he was planning on saying before he was met with such a disappointing creature. The spirit gurgled happily, and bounced alongside Trent as he was carried out of the museum.
Even as he was shove forcefully out onto the street, the spirit displayed nothing but joy as its giddy form hopped onto the toppled teenager. Trent drew himself up, realizing that he had lost skin from his hands as he did so and crying out in a disproportionate reaction to the pain. The spirit, his spirit, giggled.